


The Call

by reigningqueenofwords



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 06:08:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18424464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reigningqueenofwords/pseuds/reigningqueenofwords





	The Call

Humming to yourself, you kicked your feet up on the arm of the couch and looked through the pages of an old copy of Rolling Stone. “Hey, sweetheart.” Dean smiled, walking into the living room. You’d bought the house together right after the birth of your oldest son, DJ, and had been living there for nearly 5 years. It had seen your marriage to Dean in the backyard, and then the birth of your twins- a boy, Levi, and a girl, Nicolette, who were three.

“Hey, handsome.” You looked over at him. Seeing the state of him, you groaned and got up, tossing your magazine on the coffee table. Dean still hunted on occasion, much to your dismay, but you gave up fighting that battle years ago. “You’re so lucky the kids aren’t home!” You hissed at him, earning a sheepish look.

“Well, I know DJ’s at school, where are the twins?” He asked, pulling off his jacket.

“Daycare.” You reminded him. “Remember, I signed them up for part time to get used to playing with kids other than each other? They go three days a week. Today is their first day.”

He thought for a moment and nodded. “Shit, that’s right.” He chuckled. “I’ll go get cleaned up before they’re home.” He told you, leaning over and kissing your cheek. “You know you love me. Covered in blood and all.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Yeah, yeah. I married you, didn’t I?” You teased. “I go pick them up in about an hour, by the way. If you want to go.”

“Of course I want to go!” He told you excitedly. “I’ve been away from home for three days, and I miss my kids.” Dean was an excellent father, and very hands on. “Oh, Sam says hi, by the way.” He told you.

“I’ll text him later.” You told him. “Now, go shower before I drag you outback and hose you down!” You half threatened.

* * *

At dinner that night, you raised an eyebrow at your husband. **“If you shove any more of that in your mouth, I’m pretty sure you’ll choke.”** You teased him, with a chuckle.

“Daddyyyyy.” Nicholette giggled at her father’s face. You’d made home made mashed potatoes, baked chicken, and green beans. He had shoved some chicken and potatoes in his mouth and currently reminded you of a chipmunk. “You so silly!” She grinned.

He slowed his chewing, blushing slightly. Licking his lips, he swallowed before sipping his beer. “Sorry.” He gave you a bashful smile. “This is just so much better than eating on the road.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “I take it as a compliment, but remember, we have three small Winchesters who look up to their Daddy…” You motioned to the three kids who were a bit messy.

“Good point.” He motioned at you with a fork. Hearing his hunting phone ring, you both furrowed your brows. “What the he– heck?” Dean corrected himself when you shot him a look. “Let me go get that.”

It worried you, as he never got called in that close together. Most of the time, it was weeks, or months, between hunts. Never, ever this soon! “I’m sure it’s nothing.” You told the three kids who looked at you with curious green eyes. They had very little knowledge of hunting, and you wanted to keep it that way as long as you could.

“I gotta go, sweetheart. I’m sorry.” He rushed in, a panicked look on his face as he kissed your cheek. You looked at him, scared. “I know, I know. I never take hunts this soon after I get home.” Dean sighed, resting his forehead against yours. “I’ll call you tonight and fill you in. I promise.”

You nodded, knowing that was his way of saying he didn’t want to say anything in front of the kids. “Alright. Kids, say bye to daddy.” You gave them a small smile.

“Bye, Daddy!” They yelled in unison, tugging at his heartstrings. “Love you!”

Moving to them, one by one, he kissed the top of their head. “Be good for mommy, guys.” He told them firmly. “Or I’m _not_ gonna be happy when I get home.”

They looked at each other, wide eyed. “Uh oh.” Levi breathed. “We be good, Daddy!” He looked over at Dean, who was trying so hard not to laugh at their expressions.

* * *

After dinner, you’d cleaned the kitchen up, bathed them, given them a bedtime snack, and managed to get them all into bed. By the time you sat down from housework, it was nearly 9. You had a glass of wine, and had the Food Network on a very low volume. You’d changed into a pair of Dean’s sweats, and a t-shirt, your socked feet up on your coffee table, and your cellphone on the cushion next to your leg. Once you spoke to Dean, you’d likely crawl into bed, wanting to recharge for another day of parenting three small children alone.

It was mid Master Chef rerun when your phone vibrated, lighting up with your husband’s smiling face. Sipping your wine, you smiled softly as you picked up your phone. The bottom of your glass clicked gently on the side table when you set it down, putting the phone to your ear. “Hey, handsome.” You greeted him.

“Hey, sweetheart.” You could hear the grin in his voice. “Sammy says hi.” He chuckled.

“Tell him I’m mad at him!” You joked, tucking your feet up to the side. “But, I still say hi back.”

He relayed the information to his brother as they drove down the highway. “So, I’ll spare you the gory details for now. I know you aren’t a huge fan anymore.” He teased you lightly, remembering how the month after you’d had DJ you’d thrown up hearing the details. You just couldn’t stomach them much anymore. “We’re _thinking_ ghouls.” He sighed, and you made a face. “I know you’re scrunching your nose, so…yeah. Exactly.”

You chuckled. “You know me too well.” You pointed out.

“That I do, Mrs. Winchester.” He replied, chuckling. “How was bedtime with the kids?” He asked, wanting to talk about something on a lighter note for the remainder of the call. He’d be wanting to get home more than usual, as this was sooner than he would have wanted to be gone.

* * *

Sam sat back in his chair with a groan. The sleeves to his button up shirt were rolled up to right under his elbows, the top button undone, and the tie loosened. Over the back of his chair hung his suit coat as his laptop was open in front of him. “I don’t know. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe this isn’t out type of case?” He looked over to where Dean sat on the bed closest to him. “We’ve been here two days, and we’re still at square one.” Sam pointed out, sighing.

Sipping his beer, Dean licked his lips. “Don’t tell me that. Don’t tell me I’m missing time with my kids for nothing.” He shot his brother a look. “You called me saying there was a case, and that you needed me. Don’t make me call my wife and tell her that I’m missing time with my family for nothing.”

“I’m sorry, man.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I’ll go grab some take out and see if I hear anything.” He got up, rolling his shoulders. “There’s a place down the street, Chinese. What do you want?”

* * *

Holding his gun aimed, Dean moved through the large house, his heart beating his in chest. Sam went another way, trying to cover more ground. Feeling his phone vibrate, he licked his lips and pulled out his phone. “What?” He hissed.

Sam was quiet on the other end of the line. “Dean, it’s _not_ fucking ghouls!” He snapped, making Dean pause. “It’s not ghouls.” He repeated.

“Then what the fuck is it?” He ground out.

There was a moment of silence before Sam spoke. “This isn’t our type of case, man.”

Dean’s face paled, knowing that humans could be so much worse than monsters. “Are we dealing with fucking Hannibal or somethin’?” What the else could it be? They were finding people with parts missing. Sometimes whole parts, sometimes just pieces. “If that’s the case, then I–”

* * *

Sam furrowed his brows when Dean’s voice cut off. “Dean?!” He panicked. “Dean??” Hearing the phone drop to the floor, his stomach sank when he knew it had been stomped on. There was no other explanation. “Shit.” He knew he couldn’t do this alone, but his hunter friends were beyond limited. Many were dead for all he knew.

* * *

You were giving the kids a bath when your phone rang. Seeing Sam’s number, you felt like you’d be sick. You picked up quickly, your eyes on the kids. “Hello?” You answered, terrified that you’d be told Dean wouldn’t be coming home this time. It was the same fear you’d had for years.

“Shit, I’m _sorry_ , but I wasn’t sure who else to call.” He replied quickly. “I need you to come out and help.”

“I have three kids, Sam! What the he–heck am I supposed to do with them?” You asked, shielding yourself from some bath water.

He sighed. “Do you have a friend that can watch them? Just tell them that it’s a family emergency.”

You ran your hand through your hair. “It’s just a ghoul, Sam, what happened?” How could the two of them not handle that?

“It’s not a ghoul. It’s _human_ , and they have Dean.” He told you seriously.

“I’ll call my best friend.” You snapped. “Text me where to meet you, and I’ll be there as soon as I can.” You had a harsh look on your face.

* * *

It felt like an eternity had passed from when Sam called you, until when you met him at the start of the dirt road. The house that Dean was being held in was fairly large, and the only one for two miles (at least) in every direction. You wore jeans, a t-shirt, boots, and a jacket. Your old hunting gear. “Sam.” You greeted him with a curt nod.

“You know I hated having to call you.” He gave you those puppy dog eyes.

Your eyes were full of fear as they met his hazel ones. “Let’s just get my husband back.” You weren’t angry with Sam, per say, but you had to keep yourself in check.

Running his hand through his hair, he nodded. “Yeah, let’s go.” He motioned towards the house before the pair of you started moving quietly through the trees on the property.

* * *

Dean grunted against his restraints, his eyes covered with a dark blindfold. He’d heard his captor speak, and he knew the voice, but the name just wasn’t coming to him. It was so familiar, yet sounded like a stranger. It was pissing him off, and he wanted this to all be over. As much as he kept telling himself he was done hunting, he knew it was a bluff. He’d never send Sammy away.

“Dean!” Hearing your voice, he froze. “Oh, God.” You slid to your knees near him, pulling the blindfold off. As you worked on his bindings, your heart raced. “We’re getting you the hell out of here.” You told him. He worked on the rope around his ankles, panicked.

“Oh, look, you brought guests. Pretty little thing, too.” Came a man’s deep voice.

Dean snarled. “Show yourself, Hannibal, you sick son of a bitch.” He spat, putting himself in front of you slightly.

When the bald man stepped out, you saw Dean falter. “Is that anyway to talk to your _Grandfather_ , Dean?” He smirked. 

 

His jaw was tight as he spoke. “Samuel.” He glared.

“Dean?” You glanced at him for a split second, gripping the back of his shirt.

“How do you know my grandson?” Samuel asked, slowly moving closer.

You swallowed, watching his every movement. “Why should I tell you?” You countered, holding your head high. Being bullied by him wasn’t something you intended to do.

“Because I’m the one who holds both your lives in my hands.” He pointed out, pulling out a gun. “Now, normally I prefer other means, but you’re leaving me no choice.” Samuel sighed, aiming at Dean.

Without a second thought, you moved in front of Dean, the searing pain happening in an instant. Your hand went to gushing wound. “Fuck.” You breathed.

Sam stumbled, fighting to keep his eyes open, and leaned on the doorway. “You calculated wrong.” He ground out, making Samuel turn to look at him. To the best of Sam’s ability, he lifted his own gun and fired as he slid to the ground, groaning. His eyes were heavy with what Samuel had dosed him with, and they moved to where Dean was cradling you.

“Come on, baby.” Dean sobbed, putting his hand over yours, feeling your blood seep between his fingers. “Don’t you dare die on me. We got three kids that need you. I need you.” He breathed, feeling a pain that ate at his soul. “Please, baby…”


End file.
